


Holtz, why are my fucking clothes burning?!

by DrunkAtComicCon



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: F/F, Kate McKinnon and Holtzmann own my gay arse, PWP, Smut, literally so damn gay, this is so gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-07
Updated: 2016-09-07
Packaged: 2018-08-13 13:47:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7978870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrunkAtComicCon/pseuds/DrunkAtComicCon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the story of how you find Holtzmann staring at your burning bag of spare clothing. The next day, you’re left with no other choice than to wear what your girlfriend has lying around in the lab.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Holtz, why are my fucking clothes burning?!

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first try on smut, Holtzmann and fanfiction in the English language (it's not my first language). Quite a few first-times. Therefore, I appreciate every constructive comment. Tear it apart if necessary. 
> 
> This is also just my way of dealing with how gay I am for Kate McKinnon and Jillian Holtzmann and how blown away I am because of the new Ghostbusters. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

You didn’t know how it happened. All you knew was that the bag with your spare clothing was on fire and all Jillian Holtzmann did was watching.  
“Holtz!” you exclaimed. “What the bloody fuck?!”  
Holtzmann turned around to look at you in a curious fashion. You raised your eyebrow questioningly. A wide smirk was spreading on her lips and you felt the immense urge to smack the living crap out of her.  
“What?” you demanded to know.  
“You know,” she drawled, “your accent’s getting thicker the more worked up you are. Love it. No one makes swearing sound so sexy like you and your Britishness do.”  
Now you actually let out a huff. Grinding your teeth, you tried to regain composure and not to actually throw something at your girlfriend. She had a way of pushing your buttons and it didn’t help that your fucking bag was still in flames.  
“Holtzmann, what in the bloody name of Christ happened to my bag?” you asked once again. Usually you found the engineer’s eccentric behaviour quite endearing, but as the smell of your brunt clothes hit your nose you couldn’t help it.  
“Oh, that,” she said and giggled. “Well, there was... um... a little accident and... um... a spark kinda flew over and, well, set your bag on fire...”  
You opened your mouth to say something, but ended up just gaping at Holtz, who now was laughing like a madwoman.  
“And what am I supposed to wear tomorrow?” you almost-shouted at her. The moving in with her was taking longer than both of you had anticipated and so the lease of your flat had run out a couple of days ago. You had moved all your furniture and belongings to a cheap storage unit and set up your bed for the night in the Firehouse. Unfortunately said storage unit was at the other end of the city and it was way too late for you to drive there now.  
“How ‘bout nothing?” Holtz suggested and cackled like she was the funniest person alive. You just rolled your eyes and let out another huff.  
“You do know that we’re working tomorrow, don’t you?” you say and actually wonder if she is aware of that.  
“Patty and Abby wouldn’t mind, I guess,” Holtzmann said, “but you could get Gilbert all flustered.” Another set of giggles shook her slim body by the thought of an all flustered Erin Gilbert and you had to admit that it would be funny. Still, it wasn’t an appealing thought to spend the whole day naked, especially not in Holtzmann’s lab. The last time you two had tried that, you had ended up with a rather nasty burn just below your breast. Wearing a bra was painful for a solid two weeks following the incident. Hence, no excessive nakedness in Holtzy’s lab ever again.  
“No, I’m not gonna run around naked the whole time,” you said and crossed your arms in front of you.  
“Don’t ya worry your pretty head, babe, I was only joking. I got spare clothing lying around here somewhere. It’s all yours’,” she reassured you and then finally grabbed the fire extinguisher to put out the flames. You stared mournfully at the remains of your duffle bag.

The next morning came and, after a quick glimpse towards the pile of burnt fabric, the memory came back as well. Instead of getting up and doing something about it, though, you just turned around in bed and burrowed your head in the pillow that smells so deliciously of Holtzmann. Of course, your girlfriend was already up and running, probably trying to blow a hole in the wall again.  
“Rise and shine, hot stuff,” she exclaimed and you turned around yet again, only to get hit in the face by the load of clothing she threw at you. Your disapproving grunt was muffled by the fabric and you could hear her snicker. An annoyed eye-roll later, you looked at the clothes she had thrown at you. In your lap lie a pair of purple boxers (Jillian’s favourites), a lacy black bra (her best one), a burgundy crop-top, a pair of grey overalls (covered in paint splatters) and a red and black flannel shirt – you couldn’t say you were surprised at the assortment.  
“I’m gonna look like a dark-haired version of you, babe,” you said matter-of-factly.  
“That sorta was the plan when I set fire to your duffle bag,” she deadpanned, a toothy grin on her rosy lips. You stopped dead in your movements of arranging the clothes and stared at her in sheer disbelieve.  
“You what now?!” you yelled at her and threw the pillow towards her face. She ducked it effortlessly and giggled.  
“Yeah, that spark thingy was a lie. I just wanted to see how you’d look wearing one of my outfits,” she confessed.  
“You know, Jillian, you could’ve just asked me to wear your clothes!” You watched her cringe at the mentioning of her name (only in bed she liked to be called by her first name), but she regained her smug expression quickly enough and retorted, “But where’s the fun in that, babe?”  
You just put your head in your hands and groaned in frustration. This woman would make you go insane one day, you were sure of it. Sure enough, Holtzmann had already turned away towards one of her inventions at the other side of the second floor again. You eyed the assortment of clothing lying beside you and shrugged. A few minutes later you had wiggled your way into your outfit for the day and were scrutinising yourself in the tall mirror opposites the bed. The crop-top stretched over your bosom (yours’ is a tad larger than Holtzmann’s) and the overalls hung loosely around your torso, revealing quite a bit of your sides. The hem of the purple boxers showed below the overalls and added even more colour to the weird arrangement of clothes. You put on the flannel to cover up your bare shoulders and sides. Dark chocolate brown hair fell in subtle waves over your shoulders and breasts.  
“How do I look?” you asked when you turned around towards your girlfriend. She looked up from whatever she was tinkering on and gaped at you. You blushed a little of the reaction you were getting.  
“You look like a trillion dollars, baby,” Holtzmann said, hunger flickering in her blue eyes. Then she added, “But there’s something missing to make it perfect.” She strode over to you, casually pulling her SCREW U necklace over her head just to putting it over yours.  
“Now the hair and you look like me,” she grinned and backed you towards the bed. “Sit!” She hurried into the bathroom and returned a moment later, arms full of her hair products. You didn’t even dare to object anymore. She would do it anyways. So you just sat there and let her work. She tugged on your hair and placed what felt like a ton of bobby pins and a gallon of hair gel in them. When she reckoned your hair to be perfect, she added the finishing touch in form of a probably unhealthy dose of hairspray and marvelled at her handiwork.  
“You look positively delicious, mini-me,” she purred in your ear with a husky voice that sent a shiver right down your spine. Heat accumulated in the pit of your stomach, but you pushed the desire away. It was getting late and the other three Ghostbusters would soon be arriving. You still marvelled at the fact that you actually belonged to these ghost-busting badass chicks now. When Patty had called you and asked you to help her with research, you had never imagined abandoning your job at the history department of the university to become a full-time member of the clique, but here you were. Your job was to collect as much data about haunted houses in New England as possible – the girls were planning on expanding their business and Patty was simply overwhelmed with all the research. You had the time of your life right away and the flirtatious, stunningly beautiful crazy engineer who brought you coffee in the morning and beer in the evening had certainly improved working conditions even more. You couldn’t remember the exact moment you had fallen in love with Holtzmann, but you were pretty certain that it had been within the first couple of hours after you had met her. Somehow it had turned out exactly as you had hoped and now you were sharing a bed for more than half a year already.  
“By the way, I got you breakfast,” Holtzy said and hurled a one kilo pack of M&M’s towards you. Seeing it coming, you had no trouble catching it and ripped it open in one swift movement. You stuffed a handful in your mouth and mumbled a thanks. While Holtz’s weakness was her love to Pringles, yours’ definitely was your addiction to M&M’s. You still thanked the universe for your fast metabolism and the sheer inability to gain weight despite your lack of physical exercise (disregarding the gymnastics you and Holtzy did in between the sheets).  
Suddenly the door downstairs slammed shut and a moment later Patty Tolan yelled, “Good morning, ya two lovebirds. You better be dressed, Imma come upstairs now!” She had adapted that habit after she had caught Holtz and you doing it on the workbench a couple of days into your relationship. You heard feet stomping up the stairs towards the lab and felt Holtzmann beginning to get giddy.  
“Surprise!” she screamed when Patty came in and gestured wildly towards you. Patty turned and stopped dead in her tracks when she laid eyes on you.  
“The hell?! What happened to you? You look like Holtzy!”  
You ruffled through your hair, slightly embarrassed and grinned shyly. The whole style was indeed different from your regular jeans-baggy-tee-combo and you started to become very self-conscious the longer Patty stared at you.  
“I mean,” she finally added, “you look terrific. I just never thought you’d wear clothes like this.”  
“Holtz burned my clothes so I was left very little choice,” you said grumpily. You were still slightly pissed at your girlfriend for that action.  
“She did what now?!” Patty exclaimed and Holtz burst out into laughter.  
“Ya know, (Y/N) asked me just the same.”  
You rolled your eyes and sighed. Patty still stared at her.  
“Holtzy, I told you that you shouldn’t do that! You promised not to do it!”  
You just kept quiet, too wise to interfere. Holtz and Patty were still bickering when two new sets of feet climbed up the stairs. Drawn to the upper floor by Patty’s exclaims, Abby and Erin entered the lab.  
“What’s the hassle about?” Abby asked, not noticing you at first.  
Patty stopped mid-sentence, turned around and explained, “Holtzy burned (Y/N)’s clothes just so she could see her in her own clothes, which is completely mental, even for you, baby.” She had turned back to Holtzmann who was cackling again. She still found it hilarious as fuck. Abby and Erin turned to look at you as well and while Erin was too baffled to say something, Abby hollered and said, “Damn, girl, that look suits you!”  
“Does that mean that I’m allowed to burn her stuff again?” Holtz asked with a smirk.  
“Nonononono!” you shouted at her and she laughed again.  
“Don’t worry, babe, won’t do it without content again.” She winked at you and pecked you on the lips.  
Patty made a very mature retching sound and backed out of the room. Abby and Erin followed.  
“I should probably go down and get some work done as well,” you said. Holtz hummed in agreement and slung her arm around your waist to pull you closer. Her other hand grabbed you by her necklace and drew you in for a long, deep kiss. When she broke away she slapped your arse lightly and said, “Now go and be a busy bee, babe.”

The day went by rather uneventful. You spend most of it curled up on an armchair next to Patty’s sofa, reading sources about a haunted house near Boston. Whenever your vision became too blurry to make out the tiny scribbles, you got up to get yourself more coffee and to bring a cup upstairs to Holtz. Every time you went there, Holtzmann spend a good while just letting her eyes trail up and down your body and her hands were always sure to follow shortly after. Despite the teasing, you didn’t want to give in since the other Ghostbusters had walked in on you during your rabbit-phase often enough for you to know it better than to have sex with her while the others were still around. It still got you worked up pretty well, though.  
The day dragged on and it seemed like a decade had passed when Patty, Abby and Erin finally bid you a good evening and left. You really liked the others, but your girlfriend had made you all hot and bothered and all you wanted was to get payback for that. When the door fell shut behind the others, you put away the document you had been pretending to read for the last twenty minutes and got up from your comfortable armchair. Instead of going up the stairs, you started climbing the pole that led down from the lab. Back in school you hadn’t been one of the best at PE, but your history of breaking into old abandoned buildings and haunted houses back in England had made you a pretty good climber. Thankfully Holtzmann had turned up her music so loud that Michael Jackson’s _Smooth Criminal_ was drowning out the squeaking sounds your shoes made on the pole. In what might have been your personal best time you climbed up to the lab and placed your feet on either side of the hole, hands still holding onto the pole. Holtzmann seemed obnoxious of your presence and was still dancing and tinkering. The song was about to end and you knew that this was your cue. You shrugged off the flannel and crumpled it up into a ball. Right when the song was about to change you called, “Hey Jillian!” in your most seductive voice. It sure enough made her spin around, a wolfish grin appearing on her face when she saw you slung around the pole.  
“What are you up to, sugar?” she asked as she was approaching. You didn’t respond, but instead started to move against the pole to the beat of Queen’s _Another One Bites the Dust_. When your crotch graced the pole, you heard Holtz draw in a sharp breath and you tossed the flannel towards her. Now that both of your hands were free again, you began to move a bit farther up the pole, your feet leaving the security of the ground. Lasciviously winding yourself around the pole and back, you noticed how Holtz started to become giddy. In a swift move you were back on the ground, sliding your arms out of the overalls straps. They ended up dangling around your waist, your upper body now only clad in the crop-top. Holtzmann stared at you like the cat that was about to get the cream. You kept on dancing for your girlfriend until she couldn’t bear it anymore. She strode over to you and roughly grabbed you by the waist, pulling you to her with just enough force to be sure that you didn’t fall down the hole.  
“You do rock my looks, babe,” she said, her voice already dangerously low and rough. She kissed you fiercely. You promptly deepened the kiss until it was all teeth and tongue and messy. Your hands started to roam her body, gliding along the straps of her overalls. You undid the clasps and while the material fell to her hips, your hand brushed lightly against her chest. She didn’t wear a bra and you could feel her already hardened nipple beneath your fingers. A light moan escaped your lips and Holtzmann saw it as an invitation to grab you hard by your top and shove you against the next wall. As if the most natural thing, her thigh slid in between your legs, pressing against the pulsing spot between them. You let out a loud groan at the friction, your head falling against the wall, leaving your neck fully exposed. Holtzmann seized this opportunity to kiss and suck and lick at the sensitive skin below your jawline. Her teeth scraped against the spot right above your jugular vein and your hips involuntarily bucked up against her perfectly placed leg.  
Your hands weren’t inactive as well, but found the hem of her top and shoved it upwards over her perfect, pale breasts, revealing the most beautiful hardened nipples you’ve ever seen. You pulled Holtzmann’s head back by her hair – maybe a bit roughly, but both of you were long over the initial phase of carefulness and you both knew how far you could go with each other. Your lips found her nipple and without further ado you sucked it between your lips, your teeth scraping lightly over the sensitive nerve bundle. She moaned and you grinned against her flushed skin. Your hands found her arse and squeeze it hard. She pushed her thigh against your sex in return. When you let out a moan, your breath caressed her wet nipple and goose bumps spread over her fair skin. Jillian grabbed your shirt, pulled it over your head and tossed it aside. She got rid of your bra right away and kissed and bit a trail along your neck down to your breasts. She sucked and licked at your nipple while her hand massaged your other breast. Again you grid down on her thigh, your wetness seeping through Jillian’s boxers. You pushed yourself away from the wall and led her to the bed. When her knees hit the edge of the bed, she kicked off her boots and you yanked down her overalls.  
You stepped back to just marvel at the mere beauty of your girlfriend. Your eyes locked for a moment with the crystal clear deep oceans of Jillian, then trailed down to her soft, pink lips, along her prominent, sharp jawline. Your gaze trailed along the pale neck, dotted with hickeys, to the slope of her wonderful breasts along her flat stomach down to her crotch that was hidden under rainbow coloured boxers. Jillian was looking at you with a hungry flicker in her eyes and you made a show of painstakingly slowly pulling down your overalls. When they pooled around your ankles, you carefully stepped out of them and a blink of an eye later you were at her again, pushing her back down on the mattress, straddling her lap. Her hands were on your breasts, kneading them with just the right pressure. You kissed her sloppily and passionately, teeth colliding, tongues battling. You grinded your hips down on hers.  
“Fuck...” she murmured.  
“Was that a dare, Jillian?” you purred.  
“Yes, yes it was. Please...” she pleaded, bucking up against you. You smirked. She was so hot when she was all horny.  
“What do you want me to do, Jillian?” Your voice was dangerously low and you briefly nipped at her earlobe before sucking yet another hickey on her neck.  
“Fuck... me... please...”  
Before she knew what happened, your hand slipped underneath her boxers and your fingers automatically found her clit. You rubbed it briefly. Once. Twice. Jillian let out an o-so-sweet whimper and you withdrew your fingers again. She groaned.  
“Babe, please. No teasing,” she begged and your grin turned wolfish. You got down from her and she was about to protest, but you quickly pulled down her boxers. You gently spread her legs and sat in between them. For a moment you looked at her, all messy and open lying in front of you and you still couldn’t quite wrap your head around how you got so lucky. The kisses along her thigh where rough and demanding, but when you reached her slick folds, your lips only ever so slightly brushed against her. Nevertheless, it sent a jitter through her whole body and you hummed in content.  
“Do you want me to eat you out, Jillian?” you ask against her wet crotch and her moan was answer enough. With your fingers you spread her folds apart and licked with the flat of your tongue from her entrance up to her clit, her scent hitting your nose, musky and sweet and simply Jillian. A cry ripped through the room and you couldn’t help but smirk against her warm flesh. Without any further delay, you pushed two fingers inside her, your lips sucking at her clit. Another cry let you speed up the slow rhythm of pulling out and pushing into her. Her hips rocked in correspondence, her entrance taking in your fingers deeper with every thrust. Her hands found your mussed hair and fingertips dug into your scalp. You slung an arm around her waist to steady her, sucking harder and thrashing your fingers into her faster and faster. She was moaning your name, swearing under hear breath and yet another cry ripped through the air when she finally came undone completely. Her muscles contracted violently around your fingers as the orgasm hit her and you rode it out with her. When she collapsed breathlessly, you withdrew your fingers and licked them and her clean of her cum before crawling up beside her, causally placing your leg over hers, your thigh brushing lightly against her sensitive sex. She moaned again and you kissed her so she could taste herself on your lips and tongue.  
“If burning your clothes and dressing you in mine always results in such amazing sex, I’m definitely going to do that again,” Holtzmann said when she had regained enough composure and winked at you playfully. You rolled your eyes and lightly slapped her thigh.  
“Don’t you fucking dare, darling,” you growled.  
She looked at you, the post-coital haze not yet vanished from her eyes, and smiled an honest, sweet smile.  
“I love you,” she said.  
“I love you, too,” you responded and kissed her.


End file.
